


Midnight in Homs

by intravenusann



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-07
Updated: 2012-05-07
Packaged: 2017-11-04 23:55:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/399627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intravenusann/pseuds/intravenusann
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint doesn't mind all the ways Natasha keeps her distance, so long as she stays in view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Midnight in Homs

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a warm-up and therefore incredibly short, apologies. I'd like to write more of the two of them just kicking around saving the world together.

The way the desert sun bakes the land leaves few clouds at night and today’s round of shellings has left the abandoned housing block they’ve holed up in with a massive hole in the roof. Not so much the roof, but the entire corner of the building and the ceiling of the floor above them.

With one arm behind his head to prop him up and one stretched out so that it almost reaches Natasha’s back, Clint can see more stars than he thinks he’s ever seen.

In the distance, he hears shouting. Domestic disturbance, a sane mind would say, but his money is on kidnapping. Natasha silhouette is made indistinct and all the more dangerous by the black niqab that reaches down to her shoulders.

“Don’t you find that demeaning?” he’d asked, once, when they were in Iran.

“No,” she’d said, giving him that look that said she thought he was being particularly stupid and not in an entertaining way. “You can hide more guns in a burqa than a miniskirt.”

He thinks she likes revolutions, but he’s afraid to ask. Natsha doesn’t pull her punches with him. It’s one of the best things about her, about whatever it is they have now, since they saved the world together. Maybe she wasn’t pulling her punches before. Maybe she still thinks she owes him.

“You take me to the most romantic places.”

“What?” she says. The flashes of her skin, the whites of her eyes, made all the brighter by appearing from formless black.

Far in the distance, he’d guess Baba Amr if there was anything left there to demolish, something explodes.

“It’s romantic,” he repeats.

Something metal clicked softly in the moment of silence that followed, with her eyes on them.

“Yes,” she says, finally. “It is.”

Natasha sighs, turns her back on him again. He notices she never looked up. She gets up and set something in her luggage, then comes back and sits further on the edge of the bed. Still, she’s close enough he could touch her if he was willing to move. But then he wouldn’t be able to see the stars.

Besides, he always liked how things looked at a distance, even her.


End file.
